#the-last-dillards

[mars-ipan]

i feel so smart rn

[alyseatleast]

The best books I read in 2023

It is such an odd experience to look back at books I read in the beginning of the year and think, That was this year?! Why does it feel so long ago? I thought this year went by quickly, but this sensation makes me think otherwise. So much happens in a year, I suppose. Looking at pictures of my nieces a year ago makes me wonder how they can grow and change so much in one year. Thinking back on…

[l-just-want-to-see]

life/love as an echo

Echo and Narcissus, John William Waterhouse / Teaching a Stone to Talk: Expeditions and Encounters, Annie Dillard / @arsanatomica / ? / Kindergarten Andy Warhol Pop Art Hands, Abby Schukei + Cueva de las Manos / @hawkeyedflame / eulogy from a physicist, edited by @petrichara / @hawkeyedflame / @chopnuts, about a video where a robin sang after the woman filming laughed / Metamorphoses, Ovid [trans. Melville] / Phenomenon #48, Angela Lane + Uranus, Sleeping At Last / ? / @princes-heels + The Mudflats Facebook page

[harrywavycurly]

Southern Comfort Part 22: So I Can Kiss You Anytime I Want

Masterlist: Here

CW: None

Tag List: @wedontknowherorhimorthem @blckburd @daphnesutton @fangirl509east @styleswithaseaview

Side Note: James Avery is actually a real company that makes jewelry in Texas (and now avaible in Dillards) and it’s a super common thing to see woman with charm bracelets I’ve had mine since I was 14! If you want an up close look at the charm Harry got you it’s here and the one he got for his chain is here✨

A/N: Harry might’ve overdone it with the flowers but he doesn’t care and you can’t help but want to cry at how thoughtful he really is, also him quoting Sweet Home Alabama is just too cute so enjoy✨

Harry rubs his lips together as he taps his fingers on top of his kitchen island while looking at his watch to check the time. You should be here any minute now and he doesn’t know why he’s nervous, well actually that’s a lie he knows exactly why he’s nervous but he does his best to try to settle his nerves with a few calming breathes as he hears the sound of his front gate opening. He smiles when he hears your voice saying thank you to David, his driver that he sent to pick you up from your house since Harry couldn’t do it himself due to setting things up for tonight taking longer than he intended.

“Honey do you have-” You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you open Harry’s front door. Harry quickly walks from his kitchen to his living room where he has a clear view of you standing in his doorway with a look of pure shock on your face.

“Is it too much?” He asks as he watches your eyes scan the room that he’s spent the last hour and a half filling with all your favorite flowers setting small bouquets on the floor leading towards his living room where his coffee table is completely covered. Along with flowers everywhere he also took the time to set up some fake candles that help light up the space because he took Niall’s advice and didn’t use real candles in fear they’d set the flowers on fire and that would ruin the mood he worked hard on trying to set.

“Harry what is all this?” He notices the way your eyes are still wide as you finally take a few steps into the house, the front door softly closing behind you. “Is this all for me?” You place a hand on your chest as you finally meet Harry’s stare as he takes a few steps towards you so he’s standing right in front of you.

“I uh well this is date number twenty five and I figured this was a good time-“ Harry’s words are cut off by your lips on his in a kiss that makes him forget what he was even saying as he feels your hands on his chest gripping the fabric of his button up shirt, slightly pulling him down towards you as your feet go from being on your tiptoes to flat on the floor.

“Sorry sugar I couldn’t help myself.” Your voice is playful as you pull away from him and smooth his shirt a little where you had it bunched up in your hands while Harry’s hands fall to your hips as he looks down at you with a smile on his face.

“Uh I uhm…what was I saying?” You laugh as his cheeks go a bit pink, he shakes his head and clears his throat as he tries to regather his thoughts all while you just look up at him with a grin.

“This is date number twenty five.” Harry just nods with a smile taking over his face as you remind him of what he was saying before you interrupted him.

“Right and uh well I just thought that this would be a good time to see if maybe you’d like to let me be your boyfriend?” Harry feels like he’s going to pass out, his heart is beating so fast in his chest and his hands are sweaty and he’s thankful they are still resting on your denim covered hips and not in your hands so you can’t feel how nervous he is. But Harry knows you’re well aware of his nerves even without him saying or doing anything, he’s let you in on the not so secret fact that something about you just makes him worried he’s messing everything up causing him to sometimes ruin situations so what you say next in an attempt to help him relax doesn’t surprise him one bit.

“Why would you want to be with me for anyhow?” You ask with a raised eyebrow and Harry can’t help the grin that takes over his face as he moves one of his hands from your hips to the side of your face, his thumb resting on your cheek while his other fingers lightly grip the side of your neck.

“So I can kiss you anytime I want.” He answers making you smile as he leans down and places a quick kiss to your lips.

“I’ve taught you well sugar plum.” Harry just smiles as he rests his forehead against yours. “I’d love for you to be my boyfriend.” He feels his body relax at your answer and it’s as if the weight of the world has been lifted off him because he was truly worried you’d tell him no and he wouldn’t blame you one bit given how just a few days ago you left him standing in this very same living room wondering if he’d ever hear from you again.

“I got you something.” You raise an eyebrow at him as he pulls away from you, dropping the hand from your cheek so he can reach down and grab one of your hands and lead you into the kitchen.

“Harry Edward Styles what in the hell is all this?” He can’t even act like he doesn’t enjoy the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth when you use your fake annoyed tone with him, he knows he went overboard with the flowers but he doesn’t care because you’re worth it. “Do you own a flower shop or somethin’ and you’re just now telling me?” You ask as you look at all the bundles of flowers placed all over Harry’s kitchen counters.

“No but I can make that happen if you’d like?” You roll your eyes at Harry’s statement because you know him well enough now that you can tell by the slight change in his tone of voice that he’d actually consider buying a flower shop if it would make you happy. He turns so he’s facing you with a smile as he gives your hand that’s still in his a nice squeeze while he grabs a little bag off his kitchen island with his free one.

“I noticed a bit ago that you wear this bracelet everyday.” You follow his gaze to your left wrist where your charm bracelet that you’ve had since you were sixteen sits, the few charms you’ve collected over the years dangling from the chain wrapped around your wrist. “I didn’t know what it was so I uhm did some research and found the charms you have are made by a Texas company called uh James Avery?” His voice is uncertain as he hands you the very familiar looking bag that has the company’s logo on it. “Is that right? If it’s not then I can-”

“You got it right honey.” You reassure him with a smile as he lets go of your hand so you can carefully remove the tissue paper from the bag, out of habit Harry holds his hand out ready for you to hand it to him because he’s always ready to hold whatever you need him to even if it’s just a few sheets of decorative tissue paper.

“I wanted to get you something you uh could add to your bracelet that would make you think of me and the day we met.” He explains as you open the box, he watches your face carefully as you pick up the velvet charm holder and gently turn it over making the charm land in your palm. He sees the way your eyes go soft and your mouth makes an adorable pout as you look up from the charm in your hand to him.

“A mermaid?” Harry just nods as you look down at his forearm and see the very familiar tattoo poking out from where he’s rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. “I love it Harry thank you, it’s perfect.” He smiles as you look back up at him, you watch him pull at the chain he always has around his neck and when he brings it out so it’s resting over his shirt your eyes travel to the end of it where his cross normally lays.

“I got myself something that’ll remind me of you since I don’t uhm have a charm bracelet I thought this was a good place for it.” You take a small step forward and reach out so you can touch the charm that’s hanging next to his cross and that’s when Harry notices your eyes have gone glossy. “Bluebonnets seemed appropriate since they were the first flowers I ever bought you and honestly there were too many options to pick from and I got overwhelmed.” He knows he doesn’t need to explain why he picked the charm he did but the way you’re staring at it is making him nervous so he can’t help himself.

“You sure you wanna be reminded of me everyday? That’s kinda a big deal Harry.” Your voice is low as you finally look up at him and Harry just playfully rolls his eyes as he brings his hands up to cup the sides of your face.

“I don’t know if you’re aware of this or not but I’m sort of obsessed with you.” You just let out a huff as he leans in close to you so the tip of his nose is touching yours. “So yes sweetheart I’d very much like to be reminded of you everyday.” With that he leans all the way in so he can place a sweet kiss to your lips, you smile when he pulls away and slowly moves his hands from your face to the tops of your shoulders so he can give them a little rub as you put your charm back in its box and slip it back into the bag.

“You bring me here just to make me cry? Or are you gonna feed me at some point as well?” You ask as you hand the bag to Harry so he can place it back on his kitchen island. He just laughs as he pulls you into his chest making your arms wrap around his middle so your cheek can rest against the fabric of his shirt while his wrap around the tops of your shoulders so he can hold you close.

“Dinner is on the way.” He mumbles into the top of your head before placing a kiss there. “Oh so since I’m your boyfriend now does that mean we can do away with the one date a day rule?” He feels your body vibrate as you laugh and he just gives you a gentle squeeze.

“Bless your heart sugar you’re so precious.” Harry doesn’t know if that’s a yes or a no but he’s smart enough to know not to ask again so he just places another kiss to the top of your head and holds you a little tighter as the realization that you’re finally officially his girlfriend hits him and suddenly he doesn’t really care if the rule still stands or not because he’s just happy you even let him take you on dates at all.

[bladesmitten]

wyll and ulder ravengard's timeline pre-baldur's gate 3

1468 DR: wyll is born <3

1475 or 1476 DR: wyll sees duke stelmane for the first time and gets smitten with her

1476 DR: wyll, 8y/o, gets caught sneaking into the counting house when he'd heard it held mythical treasure

sometime before and until 1482 DR: blaze ulder ravengard works as grand duke abdel adrian's right hand man. (abdel is notably a bhaalspawn.) as blaze, ulder served as warden of wyrm's rock fortress

1482 DR: abdel dies, ulder ravengard gets promoted to flaming fist marshal, wyll is 14 years old. this would also be the same age wyll first drank alcohol and "got so tipsy from wine, [he] puked in dillard portyr's bushes".

1483 DR: wyll gets his first kiss in the blushing mermaid!

on or before 1485 DR: ulder ravengard becomes grand duke of baldur's gate

1485 DR: ulder gets called away to elturel to settle a dispute, cult of the dragon attacks baldur's gate, wyll ravengard signs a warlock pact to stop them and gets exiled from baldur's gate </3

1485-1492 DR: wyll travels the sword coast as the blade of frontiers

1492 DR: start of baldur's gate 3, ulder gets dragged down to avernus while he was in elturel, wyll gets tadpoled while hunting down karlach, you know the rest!

more fun facts:

ulder would often send mini-wyll to deliver messages to sharess' caress. wyll did not know the place was a brothel.

wyll has a fishing spot under wyrm's rock bridge, he didn't catch much and would get scolded by his father

wyll has been to waterdeep as a kid when he and his father visited

wyll has a thing for mermaids, he'd swam around the docks to look for them and apparently saw one

totally not relevant to the last point, ulder has at least one trashy mermaid smut book, one that wyll can quote verbatim

source: forgotten realms wiki, in-game dialogue

feel free to add more info/any corrections <3

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝙸𝙸𝙸. 𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: trauma responses disguised as life skills, angst, fluff, pining, soft!Joel, protective!Joel, girldad!Joel, lots of flirting, inherent power imbalance due to boss/employee dynamic, financial/mental/emotional/physical abuse, mentions/depictions of childhood trauma, high functioning alcoholism | WORD COUNT: 9.7k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: All the progress you've made is jeopardized by a chance meeting. Joel begins to worry the nagging feeling he has about your home life might just have more truth to it than he knows.

Joel had a good feeling about you even before you started helping out Miller Contracting, but he’d never been so optimistic to think you’d be this quick on your feet with pivoting. He hesitated to call it embellishment or outright lying because it was never an ill-intentioned or malicious thing from what he’d seen. It was more along the lines of a finely tuned social skill, something that could be implemented to mitigate a client’s frustration or labile moods. It was a mastery of sorts that might be used by somebody to change the energy of a room or quell fits of chaos into a more orderly, civil atmosphere.

You’d surprised him with that line to Mr. Dillard about Jennifer having some mystery health concern that required a sudden departure. It was such a simple explanation – and not entirely false. Her mental health had taken quite a hit, and she’d made the decision to preserve what was left of it when she stepped away from the job. It was an understated but effective approach on your part, and possibly the best thing about it all was that it put the ball right back into the client’s court. They really only had two choices then: keep kicking up dust and silently admit you were an asshole or show a little empathy and save face.

Much to his delight and seemingly your relief, most clients chose the latter. After all, it didn’t require much mental capacity to understand that sometimes bad things often happen at the best times. It let Miller Contracting off the hook a little bit as to why there was a sudden hiccup in the daily operations. Even some of the more irascible clients had asked for general updates or news on if there’d be any improvements to Jennifer’s condition. Yet again you handled the conversation with devastating perfection by falling back on not going into much detail to “respect her medical privacy during this difficult time.”

Joel had picked up a few gems from you and used them himself. His go to’s were “it’s one day at a time” and “the prayers really keep her spirits up.” It addresses the situation without saying much of anything, and he gets to move on with his day swiftly.

He wonders where on earth you learned to be so quick on your feet with the perfect thing to say at the perfect time with the perfect delivery. He wonders what sort of life experiences you’ve had that gave you enough practice to hone such a skill. Maybe one day he’ll learn enough about you to fill in the blanks, but for now he’s just grateful you’re here to help him.

Your heart slams into your stomach when you round the corner to your street. Your dad’s car is parked in the driveway. He’s home early. You were going to get all the housework done with the couple of hours you had ahead of you before he got off work. His unannounced, premature arrival meant you had to think of something to tell him about why you were out somewhere on your day off instead at home tending to things. You park your bike and keep a steady pace to the door in case he’s looking through a window somewhere. If you acted out of sorts, he was going to wring you for every last detail. You slip inside the front door and gently close it. You flick the lock just as his voice breaks through the dead silence.

“Where were you?” The question comes out calm like a snowdrift creeping along the edge of an avalanche.

“Just around the neighborhood,” you reply plainly. You can’t sound too evasive, but you most definitely can’t sound too indifferent. He has to know you aren’t just carefree and lazy on your days off. You earn your keep around here and then some. You can’t give him a reason to think you’re not taking things seriously.

“Just around the neighborhood?” he parrots. “You have friends in the neighborhood?” The dubious slant in his tone is meant to be cutting, but the knowledge of that doesn’t stop it from being hurtful. You hear what he’s really saying: you don’t have friends in the neighborhood or anywhere else for that matter.

“Well, sort of. You’re home early. Is everything okay?” Maybe directing the conversation to him and his day will nimbly refocus the attention off of you, your whereabouts, your comings and goings . . . 

He sighs and stands from his irritated slump in the plush living room recliner. The nearly empty bottle of beer sways in his hand. “Denise got into a fender bender. Called me in fucking hysterics. You’d think the whole front end had come off her car.” He pauses to take a swig of beer and shake his head with a derisive tut. “Typical woman driver, though. At least you know it’s better to stick with the bike instead of terrorizing the road with your driving.”

You swallow past the words in your throat and ignore the flood of thoughts about why you actually have anxieties about driving. One too many times of getting into his car as a kid while your mom turned a blind eye or was just altogether out for the night. Your legs were barely long enough to reach the pedals from where you sat on his lap, and it was nerve-wracking to help him “keep the wheel steady” while he drove to get himself something else to drink because he’d run out. All those times he’d run into the store and tell you to sit tight and wait felt like centuries. Being alone with your thoughts meant your mind wandered into full blown paranoia, making you feel so sure you could hear sirens and that the police were going to catch you. 

The cadence of your inhales would outpace your exhales, and soon enough you were in tears trying to strain your ears to hear all the impending catastrophes coming your way. Your brain would race to formulate an explanation you could offer law enforcement so you wouldn’t get in trouble or your dad wouldn’t get arrested or they wouldn’t think a home visit was warranted. You were always so, so afraid that you and Calum would get separated, and then who would he have to protect him?

“You didn’t answer my question,” he points out in a deceptively collected tone. “Where were you?”

You freeze up. Oh god, you can’t freeze up. Not now. He’ll know something is different. He’ll know you’re lying. He’ll—

The steely grip of his fingers across your lower jaw anchors you in place for closer inspection. “You keeping something from me?” His nostrils flare at the mere idea of you having the gall to lie to him. You try to shake your head, but his hold tightens on you. “Don’t. Lie. To. Me,” he seethes.

You try to speak, but it’s garbled around the cage of his hand. He lets up just enough for you to form words. “I-I didn’t want to get your hopes up yet until I–until I knew I had gotten the job,” you plead.

His eyes narrow with interest. “What job?” he demands.

“It’s–It’s a customer at the store. Their secretary quit, and I’ve been helping. I’m trying to get the full time maybe, but I didn’t—”

He covers your mouth with his hand. It reeks of beer. “You quit your job at the grocery store?”

You shake your head, and he drops his hand. “No! No, of course not!”

“Well how THE FUCK am I supposed to know what bullshit you’re getting up to when you’re running around hiding it from me?” he bellows. You flinch when he raises his voice and his arms to the side in a gesture of righteous anger.

Tears start to pool at the corners of your vision. “I wanted to surprise you when I got good news. I wanted to try to get this job, but I didn’t want to get anybody’s hopes up yet!”

He stares at you with empty, cold eyes. “So, what? You’re doing secretary stuff? How much are you making?”

Of course that’s his first concern: how much more money could you be feeding into the joint account? You lie and tell him it’s a dollar less than the grocery store. Before he can lash out too much, you emphasize the long term growth an opportunity like this could offer. There’s more room to go up, and the experience is something that could translate to a lot more stable, higher paying jobs. His brain isn’t wet enough with alcohol to keep him from considering the validity of your statement.

“I want to see your pay stubs.”

“I-I don’t have it set up yet. I’m not in their system yet. I don’t technically have the job yet.”

His eyes thin into scrutinizing slits. “Fine. Write down your hours so I can compare it to your pay. The last thing we need is you getting swindled because you’re too fucking stupid to keep track of your finances.”

“Okay,” you choke.

He juts a finger out and pokes your shoulder with it. “Next time you want to make a big choice like that, you come to me first for permission.” He leans in closer to tower over you. You drop your gaze to the floor. “Do you understand?” Each word is accentuated with a stabbing finger to your shoulder.

“Yes, sir,” you utter. “I’m sorry.”

“Now quit your crying and get the hell outta my face,” he snaps.

Without a word you turn on your heel and rush to your bedroom. You fumble with your door, hands trembling so hard you feel like they’re not even a part of you. You still and listen to your dad go into the garage for another beer.

“Oh, I got somethin’ for ya,” Joel announces as he stands and starts rooting through a desk drawer. His home office is a mess as he’s transitioning everything back into the actual office now that things are back on track for the most part. “Forgot to charge it, but Jenn finally returned her work phone. Figured you might have some use for it since you’ve sorta taken over her duties.” He hands you the nicest phone you’ve ever held in your possession. You look up at him, thinking of how you should turn it down because you couldn’t possibly accept such a nice thing, could you? You don’t even have Jennifer’s old job, so what would make you entitled to Jennifer's old phone?

“I–Are you sure, Joel?”

“Yeah, of course. It just makes your life easier, really. You can forward calls from the office to it if you need to. You know, like if you’re working from home or somethin’ one day. And then if I’m texting you I’m not usin’ up all your personal data plan, you know? Work related things means the company should cover it.”

He explains it simply enough, but you still feel uncertain about him entrusting you with it.

“I mean, I know it ain’t the newest on the block, but–”

“What? Are you serious? This phone is amazing.” You barely hold back a laugh as you pluck your dingy old flip phone from your bag. “Literally, this thing is, like, a million times nicer than this thing.”

“What’d you lose a bet or something?” Joel snorts as he takes your phone and turns it in his hand. You are distracted for just long enough by the difference of how small the phone looks in his hand compared to when you hold it that Joel clears his throat. “I, uh, I didn’t— it’s a fine phone, is what I meant. Perfectly functional.”

Oh. He thinks he said something to make you feel bad. “It’s a piece of shit, I know.” Your lopsided smile and shrug probably aren’t enough to entirely convince him that you aren’t embarrassed about your ancient phone, but it would have to do. There’s no way you’re explaining to him that it’s all you’re allowed and that your dad won’t let you get anything nicer because it would “just be a waste of time and money.”

“Well, it’s…. Yeah, it’s a piece of shit. Sorry. Didn’t mean to be so rude about it.”

“Not rude. Just stating the obvious.”

“Well, still.”

“Besides, it’s nice of you to let me use this phone anyway seeing as I don’t even have the job to justify it. Doing some real charity work there, boss man.” Your cheeks plump up in a self-deprecating smile.

“Yeah, about that….” Joel clears his throat again, but this time it’s a more hopeful sound. “What if you did have the job?”

“Ppffftttt yeah. Real funny.”

“No, I’m bein’ serious. Would you– Are you interested in it? You’ve taken to it like crazy, and you’re already gettin’ things closer to how they were. I mean, I know it’d mean stepping away from the grocery store, but—”

“You can’t be serious.” You sit there, staring at him like he’s grown a third ear on his chin.

“Well, I know it’s a bit of a leap, but I mean… I don’t wanna pressure you, and if you need time to think–”

“You want me to have the job? Jennifer’s job?”

“It’d be your job if you say yes, but, yeah, Jenn’s job.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Joel laughs.

“Oh my god! I– Are you sure? You’re sure? Tommy’s okay with– you really — you mean–” You jump to your feet with a burst of energy and try not to get too ahead of yourself. Maybe you heard him wrong. Maybe he’s playing an elaborate joke on you. So many other things would make more sense right now than what you think he’s saying.

“So is that a yes?”

“I– Of course! I would – oh.” Your shoulders slump in disappointment. Of course this was too good to be true. “I just remembered that I don’t exactly have a, um, have a way to get– I mean, I have my bike, but–”

Joel waves you off like it’s no issue at all that you don’t have a way to get to the office except for biking a long commute. “I’ll take ya with me. I live just around the way. It would actually be kinda silly if we didn’t carpool.”

“You mean you’d take me to work?” You can’t imagine why someone would go out of their way to be so kind to you. “You’d drive me every day?”

“M’already goin’ that way anyway,” Joel points out. “It’s not like I’m goin’ outta my way.”

“It just doesn’t seem…. Are you sure? I don’t want to put anything on you. It’s still a big commitment. You don’t have to, um, you know – I was sorta joking about you doing charity, but I don’t want you feeling like you have to—”

Joel holds up a hand to stop your running dialogue. “It ain’t a big deal, and even if it was, I’d still do it. You’re good at the work, good with the customers, a fast learner. You’re reliable and a hard worker. Seems like a pretty fair exchange to me.”

You practically strain your eyes trying to keep the hot pinching feeling from blooming into full on tears. “Joel, this is so– I can’t thank you enough for — this is so… thank you. Yes, I would love to have the job. And thank you for taking a chance on me. I won’t let you down.”

Joel grins at you and shakes his head like he’s thinking through some inside joke with himself. “Same to you, sweetheart. Took a chance on me when you agreed to help out, so I think we’re in the same boat here.”

“Here’s to taking chances then, I guess,” you giggle after a loud sniffle.

“Here’s to taking a chance on each other,” he agrees with a wink.

The more downtime Joel has, the more opportunities he has to sit and think about you. It’s one of the reasons he’s been trying to keep himself busy, to keep himself from blurring that line between professional and personal with you. He’s your boss for chrissakes – officially now that you accepted the job offer. Not to mention he’s much older than you but apparently missing the wisdom that was supposed to come with that. 

It was his responsibility to set clear boundaries and make sure he was fostering professional relationships with his employees. The problem when it came to you was it felt personal no matter what he tried to do. The more you two got to know each other, the more you eased into conversation and opened up. The more you opened up, the more greedy he got to unravel some other tangled string about who you were and what made you tick and what things you liked and what he could do to make you smile.

It was a death knell in his delusions that he didn’t feel anything for you when it became clear that you shared the same dumb brand of humor, taking delight in the small, nonsensical things that cropped up everywhere and anytime. You’d surprised him a few times when you’d have some smartass little quip out of the blue, looking nervous for a moment that it would be taken the wrong way, but of course it never was. He loved those random moments where you’d come out of left field with something and make him laugh in the sort of carefree way kids do when they’ve stayed up too late and had too much sugary soda and junk food.

And just when he’d gorge himself on those little moments, there was an undeniable, unsettling feeling he got sometimes when you’d talk about things. Carrying yourself in a way that seemed like you anticipated censure even when you’d done nothing wrong. Acting surprised when he’d compliment something you did, even if it was simple. You had a hard time accepting and believing all the good things but no difficulty whatsoever in assuming the worst about yourself. He couldn’t understand it, especially when you were so easy to get along with and so good with people.

Sure, your old boss Jeremy was a jerkoff, but you hadn’t seemed fazed too much the handful of times Joel was aware of his mistreatment towards you. There was something else going on there, but he wasn’t sure what. He wasn’t exactly close enough to you to ask about your mom leaving all those years ago. He’s wondered more than once if you struggle with feelings of being unwanted or not good enough – things that Sarah had struggled with when her mom up and left without so much as a backwards glance.

It was painful enough to see Sarah go through it, and he wasn’t sure watching it happen to someone else would be much easier to witness. You seem sensitive and ironclad all at once, but he’s not sure if that’s just the protective shell you’ve built up over the years. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to contribute to any notions you have about low self-worth or lack of talent.

And then even after all that, the more he learned about your home life, the more muddy the waters became. You’d mentioned your brother – Colin? Calum? Calvin? – had moved out several months ago with stars in his eyes and dreams of living a bigger life than what he could ever make here. It all sounded a bit too much like those perfectly curated responses you always had – like the one you’d skillfully delivered to Mr. Dillard to get him to warm up to you.  Joel didn’t like to press you too much about your brother, and you didn’t say much about if you two had a good relationship or a relationship at all. But you always seemed a little sad whenever it came up.

He knew your dad still lived in the house with you, and that was maybe the most perplexing piece of the puzzle yet. Joel had seen his newer car parked in the driveway before, knew from what you’d told him about his job title and where he worked that he must have a pretty decent salary and selection of suits and ties, and he had a house in the same neighborhood as Joel. All signs pointed to doing pretty well in life, at least enough to be financially comfortable, but then why didn’t you seem to have those things? 

You didn’t have a car. Maybe you didn’t have any interest in driving? But it didn’t seem that way. And regardless, your bike had certainly seen better days. At the very least you and your dad could pool finances together for a newer bike? And you wore a lot of the same clothes over and over again. He hadn’t said anything about the business casual that was loosely encouraged for the job you just accepted. Maybe you just had a few clothing choices that made you feel the most comfortable? He didn’t want to risk stepping in it by mentioning something other than the plan t-shirts and jeans you often sported.

Joel glances at the clock on the wall of the car shop – 11:30. His mechanic buddy was supposed to be done with the company truck by now. Not wanting to sit and mull over every tiny tidbit about you and your life, he got up and headed for the front desk to check with Susan about how much longer she thought it might be. Before he got there, she called out for someone else. A someone else with your last name. It was a unique enough name to make him wonder if there was some relation, but the man’s face confirmed it. There was that stony, cold face Joel had conjured in his mind’s eye a few months back. He hadn’t just imagined that distinct lack of warmth after all.

The woman with him seemed impatient and jumpy, following behind him like a petulant shadow. The cut of your dad’s voice to Susan made Joel’s head clock to the side. He hadn’t said anything rude, but he didn’t need to. The tone there expressed all the disdain and irritation left unspoken. Susan responded with something about the cars getting backed up because someone called out sick, and your dad’s companion rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“I can’t attest to the reliability of your staff, but I hope your work on her car is more promising,” he says plainly. His posture was so rigid and lax all at once. Everything about him was a bit of a contradiction. Joel noted the clean, shiny watch on his wrist where his pressed dress shirt grazed against it in a crisp, starched line. His hair was groomed without a single strand out of place. His shoes looked freshly polished. Between the attire and his demeanor, he certainly commanded respect and attention.

“Again, I apologize for the inconvenience,” Susan replied in a bored tone. She had never been one to take anybody’s bullshit in all the years Joel knew her. “If you would like the mechanic to review the work with you, I would be more than happy to call him in.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary, but I appreciate the offer,” your dad says without sounding much like he means it.

“Alright then. I’ll call you up shortly once I print out the paperwork and detail. You can take a seat. And you can come on over, Joel.”

Susan waves him to the desk. Your dad meets his eye and seems to vaguely recognize the name and the face together. Joel puts his hand out for a shake. “Yeah, hi there. Joel Miller with Miller Contracting. Unless I’m mistaken, your daughter has been helping us out these past few weeks.”

Your dad gives him an up and down before offering a tight handshake. “Mr. Miller, yes. Joel. Nice to meet you. I’ve been wondering who this mysterious side job had come from.”

“You’re lookin’ at him,” Joel laughs low with a shrug. He waits for him to introduce his companion, but he doesn’t. “And, uh, nice to meet you….?”

“Denise,” she sniffs. She takes his hand in an awkwardly pinching grasp before tucking her arms across her chest again.

“Denise, nice to meet you.” The insincerity in his voice came through, but thankfully Denise didn’t really seem to care regardless.

“So Miller Contracting is doing pretty well these days?” your dad asks.

“Yeah, can’t complain. Projects are steady. Customers are good.” Joel tucks his hands into his pockets, calm and friendly.

“Good, good. Maybe a bit more growth and that starting pay could get bumped up a little, huh?” your dad chuckles. His tone is light, but the underscoring message is clear that he’s serious.

“Uh, definitely like to share the success of the business with our employees, for sure,” Joel answers back stiffly. How did your dad know exactly what you made? Had you talked to him about it? Were you upset at the amount? Did you think it wasn’t enough? It was more than the grocery store, and you didn’t have any experience in the field. He was covering transportation for you and setting you up with a better work situation than what you’d had before, right? And he and Tommy always did their best to show appreciation to their staff with things like holiday or hire date anniversary bonuses.

Most of all, you hadn’t ever seemed concerned or upset about your pay. Was this just another example of you tamping down a reaction or thought to something just to keep the waters smooth?

“She’ll never ask for it. Probably wouldn’t occur to her,” your dad laughs at your expense. “Never been too financially savvy. Takes after her mother, unfortunately.”

Joel doesn’t know your mother and doesn’t know the circumstances of her leaving, but it’s clear a comparison to her is not in any way intended with kindness. A burning hot impulse to stick up for you rolls in his gut.

“Well I don’t know about not bein’ savvy. She’s been doin’ a knockout job so far. Got a good head on her shoulders for sure.” It’s a harmless enough claim to vouch for you, but Joel feels a bit at odds with himself trying to balance the instinct to defend you with the logical, benefit of the doubt sort of way he usually handled things. After all, your dad was a finance and economics guy. He probably thought most everyone was lacking in that area of finesse and knowledge. He probably didn’t mean to single you out specifically.

“We’ll say that’s where she takes after me then,” he laughs with a tight smile. “Well, it was nice talking to you, Joel. We’re gonna go take our seats now.” He glances back at Denise, who immediately turns to sit down.

Joel shakes your dad’s hand again and waves at Denise when she makes no move to interact with him again. He doesn’t miss the unimpressed yawn that Susan does while watching them go sit back down.

He doesn’t mention meeting your dad at the auto shop. He wants to see if you bring it up first or at all. He wasn’t sure he’d do very well communicating all of his thoughts and feelings about it, anyway. It bothered him to imagine you being upset, feeling taken advantage of, and then not feeling comfortable enough with him to say anything about it. Every imagining of it always ends up with some saddened version of you badmouthing him to your dad. Now your dad thinks you’re being underpaid by some random asshole, and Joel knows how he’d feel if Sarah was ever in a situation like that.

But then he couldn’t stop thinking about how there was something peculiar about your dad. Maybe it was the stress of haggling for a fair price over the repairs? Maybe he was feeling like he had to act like a strong, stand up guy for Denise and handle business? Maybe maybe maybe. There was still something so detached in the way he spoke about you. 

His plan to not bring it up falls through halfway through the week. He can’t take the idea of you seeing him as unfair or cheap or deceitful. “Hey, uh, so I ran into your old man a coupla days ago.” He clocks the way your entire body freezes for a moment before stiffly sitting up straight and chewing hard around your bite of sandwich in the break room. 

“Oh?”  

His brow pulls together at your forced casual inflection. “Yeah. Yeah, he was, uh, he was giving my mechanic friend’s shop a bit of a hard time. Think he was just tryna impress his, er, lady friend that was with him? Denise?” Joel cringes at his bumbling explanation, but your split second sneer tells him he’s probably on the right track thinking it was a girlfriend. Maybe one day you’d get to know each other well enough for him to ask about whatever happened with your mom. When the neighborhood gossip had made the rounds about her abrupt departure, leaving behind two teenaged kids with her husband of 16 years, he’d been so curious to know what had happened there.

“Yeah, I guess she was getting her car repaired. She was in an accident a little bit ago. My dad is helping her out with it.”

“That’s nice of him,” Joel supplies with a pleasant but neutral tone, searching your body language or expressions for any tells or clues.

“It is,” you agree. Your answers always veered into this curt, factual sort of expression whenever your dad or family came up.

“And, uh, well he mentioned somethin’ to me that’s been sorta buggin’ me if I’m bein’ honest.”

Your eyes snap up to his, panic swelling and being forced back so quickly he almost misses it. “What did he say?”

“Just somethin’ about the pay, and I guess– well, I’ll just come out with it. Do you feel like you’re not bein’ paid fairly?”

That quelled panic now cannonballs back into the picture. “What?! No! Of course not! I’m very happy!”

“Now listen, it’s okay if you don’t. I want you to be honest with me. I want you to know you can talk to me about that sorta stuff, and—”

“I’M VERY HAPPY!” You say it like you’re begging him to believe you, so he does.

“Okay, alright alright. It’s okay. I’m not upset with ya,” he assures you. That seems to take some of the edge off. He hated whenever he got you into these little destabilized whirlwinds. You had several tripwires of interaction that he’d come to learn and try to maneuver, but he was trying to get better at figuring out what made you feel calm again, too.

“Listen, my dad is just— he’s protective or whatever, okay? He’s just very— he takes— he wants to make sure the money goes into the account like it should,” you flounder. “He keeps tabs on it because I’m just–I’m just not good with that stuff. I’m not— I just make stupid choices. I’m stupid about stuff a lot, so he just– he wasn’t—”

“Hey now, whoa whoa hold on,” Joel interrupts with a partially raised hand. He turns to face you at the table and makes the bold choice to cradle your bicep in his hand. A part of him sings and swells with delight when you don’t pull away and actually look a bit comforted by it. “You aren’t stupid. You’ve got to quit with that shit.”

You stare back with a deer in headlights look. “I’m– what I meant to say was that he’s– I’m not a finance person like him, is what I meant. So, in comparison or whatever, you know? That’s what I meant.”

“Well then say that instead. Don’t call yourself stupid because it’s not true. Okay? You hear me?”

You nod, eyes dropping down to your lap, and fiddle with the fabric of his jeans taut against his knee. “Okay.”

Your deliberate choice to make physical contact with him overwhelms him with a sense of pride he doesn’t fully understand but recognizes nonetheless.

“Listen, I gotta head out in a few minutes to meet with a client, but I’m gonna call to check in on you after when I’m on my way back, alright?”

You smile a little at that. “Okay.”

He can’t shake the strange feeling about your dad and your pay and why he’s apparently managing your money for you. His words come out before he’s really even thought about what he’s saying. “I think if you’re okay with it, we’re gonna keep doin’ the cash payroll for the time being. Might switch over after tax season is done.” He doesn’t even know if that’s a thing or what it even means, but it’s all he can concoct on the spot to keep your finances in a gray area until he gets a better hold on what the dynamic is between you and your dad.

Your face brightens and relaxes. “Oh, okay. Yeah. No, that’s fine. I’m fine with that.”

Way to fucking go, you idiot. 

You’re practically seething at yourself after Joel leaves to meet with a client. Why why why had you given your dad such a low number? You got greedy, that’s why. You could’ve just said it was a 50 cent pay cut instead of a whole dollar. Now Joel thinks you’re an ungrateful employee after he hired you even though you weren’t qualified whatsoever, and now your dad has made some point of contact with Joel. What if they run into each other again and your dad confronts him with the number you gave him? What would he do when Joel corrected that he in fact did pay you a whole two dollars more than what you were claiming.

You can imagine it now, the way your dad would go back through every timelog and bank statement to calculate how much you’d diverted. A cold snap runs up your spine when your mind starts to wander into the “how would he reprimand you for your dishonesty and disregard for his rules?” territory. You grab your flip phone to distract yourself for a moment in the hopes you can shove all this mental disequilibrium to the side until you have time to process and deal with it. 

You mindlessly read through Kenzie’s texts about meeting up with a classmate last night to study, only for it to end up with “lots of not studying oops lol” and a winky text emoji. She goes through her usual Dicking Down Rubric as she liked to call it, and ultimately gives her “study buddy” a 2.9 out of 5. Any hopes of getting your mind to a clearer spot have gone out the window. You wish your biggest life issues right now were how to grade someone’s sexual presence and prowess. You hadn’t been laid in forever, and you briefly wonder if your pussy could wither away permanently if the dry spell was long enough.

Maybe you could still become a nun or something one day if things don’t work out.

You sigh and shake your head. This wasn’t helpful, and it was keeping you from getting your work done. So, you force yourself to open an email, return a voicemail, open another email, double check the calendar for next week, open another email…..

Joel’s picture is taking up your phone screen before you know it. Your heart does a little leap just seeing it. “Hey,” you answer in an unbothered, collected sort of way. You hope, at least.

“Hey, just checkin’ in,” he says.

He remembered to check in on you after he said he was going to. The notion is enough to make you feel a tad too emotional for a work setting. Pathetic. Get it together.

“What a good boss,” you hum – light, bubbly, playful. Definitely not still reeling from your earlier conversation. Definitely not spiraling into the abyss. Definitely not panicking. Definitely not wishing you could feel him wrap his hand around your arm again or anywhere else he pleased.

“Just a perk of the job,” he chimes in with a hearty chuckle. He clears his throat. “So, uh, you’re doin’ alright? You feelin’ okay from earlier?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you exhale.

“You’re doin’ it again,” he gently chides.

You aren’t sure what he means at first, but then you realize you must’ve apologized. At this rate you were downright curious as to what he deemed apology worthy because anything you’ve ever felt bad for thus far hasn’t met the criteria. “I guess I shouldn’t say sorry for saying sorry, huh?”

He breathes a little laugh over the receiver, and you want to melt into your seat. “And you have the nerve to call yourself stupid?”

Ever since that afternoon discussing his run in with your dad, Joel has been doing his little check ins more frequently. Chats in the car. Calls to and from clients or job sites. Little texts here and there over the weekend when he didn’t see you. You’d always regarded attention on you as a harbinger of corrections and judgements, but this sort of attention was different. It was nice. It made your chest feel more open, like you could breathe a little easier. It inserted a strange sort of hard stop to your day no matter what was going on, and it provided a clear moment of pause for you to check in with yourself.

You’d never been good at checking in on yourself. You were always too consumed with taking the temperature of everyone else around you. It was always harder to gauge your own thoughts and feelings without someone else’s mood and mindset acting as the measuring stick.

The entire month passes with these threads of outreach and gentleness and concern and support. Before you know it, the threads have woven into a tapestry of care and a true connection with somebody you might’ve never expected it from. How is he so soft and solid at the same time? How is he so commanding and comforting at the same time? How is he so steadfast and sympathetic at the same time? How is he so action oriented and receptive at the same time?

How was he so many things that your whole life you thought you had to pick one or the other when apparently you could be both without contradiction?

“You keep starin’ at me like I got barbecue sauce on my mouth or somethin’,” he laughs. His eyes stay fixed on the road, but his grin is so broad it bleeds into his entire side profile.

“Maybe you do,” you laugh back with a nonchalant shrug. You fix your eyes ahead now, too. Caught red-handed.

“I told you after y’all let me walk around with that booger in my nose for pretty much the entire day last week you’re required to tell me if I got somethin’ goin’ on.”

“I didn’t even see the booger,” you giggle.

“Liar,” he huffs. “Kept lookin’ at me so much I got to thinkin’ I musta looked real nice that day. Then I go to the bathroom and see that giant bat in the cave. Crushed my heart. Ego up in flames.”

“If you want me to say that you’re handsome even with a booger hanging out of your nose, you’re gonna have to promote me to CEO.”

He chuckles at that and fake pinches your leg. “Better read your contract again, ma’am. It’s right in there: employees must lie to Joel about how handsome he is.”

“Hm, sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen,” you muse.

“The only crime bein’ committed is y’all hurting my feelings by letting me walk around with delusions of grandeur,” he charges. “And I think that deserves jail time, honestly. County jail. None of that cushy stuff.”

You whistle low and cock an eyebrow. “Judge, jury, and executioner?”

Joel pulls into your neighborhood, and your heart sinks a little bit. It was always too short of a drive, always too short of a day. It wasn’t fair.

“Shame, isn’t it? And all you had to do was lie and tell me I’m handsome,” he tuts.

You angle your body towards the driver’s side and prop your elbow into the headrest. You rest your head against your hand and prop one leg on the seat. “So you go out of your way to hire liars then?”

He glances at you now with an impish little grin. “Sweetheart, if they’re as good as you are, I don’t care if they’re a liar or not.”

“Well in that case, you are devastatingly handsome.” You bite back a smile and pray to god he can’t feel the heat in your cheeks radiating off you.

“Knew it,” he declares in mock vindication.

You pretend pinch his leg back, and he grabs you before you can pull it away. His hand is so warm and big and safe.

“You better quit it,” he warns. You have a moment of internal shock when his words – words you’d heard spoken a million times in a million different variations, all intended to elicit compliance out of fear – don’t make you afraid. Nervous? Yes. Nervous in the stage fright sort of way. Nervous in the first day of school jitters sort of way. Nervous in the first kiss on a first date kind of way. But there’s no fear here. Just heady anticipation.

He drops your hand to make the turn onto your street, and your heart plummets through the floor. Everything with him always ended too soon.

Joel: Paul Revere here to tell you the trick-or-treaters are out and about.

Joel: The kids are coming! The kids are coming! 🐎🕯️Ready the candy bowls!

You: what’s with the horse and the candle lol

Joel: Paul Revere’s midnight ride. It’s not midnight, but you get the idea.

You: wow I’ve never met an emoji artist before

Joel: Ha ha very funny.

Joel: You get any trick-or-treaters yet? I don’t know what half of these costumes are.

You aren’t sure you want to tell him you’re currently sitting by yourself in a pitch black house so no kids come to your door thinking you have candy. Because of course your dad was out with Denise and her two kids, so of course he didn’t give a shit about putting out candy or what your plans were. He hadn’t even bothered to invite you, but you suppose that’s fair because you probably would’ve declined anyway. He was just saving you the extra step, really.

You: yeah funny enough we didn’t get any candy so I’m hiding out in a dark house so the kids don’t get mad at us

Joel: You’re by yourself?

Your heart did little flips every time he showed a modicum of protectiveness and thoughtfulness.

You: yeah it’s no biggie though I can just live vicariously thru you

You: you can tell me about the best costumes tomorrow morning and I can try to guess what the character is based off your terrible descriptions 🥲

Joel: Or you could just pass out candy with me? Unless you like sitting in the dark by yourself.

You: lol you tryna con me into passing out your candy for you?

Joel: Yes. 😎

Joel: Is it working?

You: be there in 5

His heart leaps into his throat when you cruise around the corner on your bike. God he hadn’t in his wildest dreams expected that texting you that stupid Paul Revere joke would result in you spending the evening with him. In truth, he’d just wanted to talk to you again. He couldn’t count how many times over the past several weeks he’d picked up his phone to send you a message and thought better of it at the last second. Can’t cross another line when he’s already crossed too many. 

He’d usually just stare at your contact picture for more time than was appropriate – a little consolation prize for barring himself from sending inane messages and calls your way – before shoving his phone back into his pocket. But now he didn’t have to settle for a static image of you. Now you were here in the flesh and going to spend a couple more precious hours together. He knew he shouldn’t make his giddiness too obvious, but christ was that becoming harder and harder the longer he knew you.

He takes your bike and props it against the porch railing. He makes a mental note about getting you a new one or at least letting him fix this one up for you. You settle onto the bench where he has the candy bowl already set up. He kicks himself for not knowing your favorite candy so he could’ve dumped a few bags of it into the mix.

“You want a beer or anything?”

You scrunch your nose and wave him off. “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

He settles onto the bench and can’t quite muster enough genuine regret about the tight fit it is for you both to share. You don’t lean away or adjust in your seat, so he takes it as good a sign as any that you don’t mind your thighs touching. You draw your legs up and place them criss-cross, apologizing for how your knee rests against his leg, and he takes a deep gulping swallow. Nope. Certainly no regrets about not building this bench bigger in the first place.

The first few trick-or-treaters come springing up onto the porch with their sights set on candy acquisition. You keep laughing at him trying to ask the kids what their costume is or who they’re supposed to be, only to have them flying off the porch in search of the next house.

“Quit it,” he laughs with a prod to your side. You squeak and nearly fold in on yourself towards him. “Oh, ticklish, huh?”

“Don’t you dare,” you warn. You sound like you might really mean it.

“I would never,” he huffs. “I’m the handsome gentleman boss, remember?”

“You’re just adding adjectives now, huh?”

“Caught me,” he concedes with a wink.

You’re icy when he asks about why you were holed up at your house by yourself. You tell him your dad is out with Denise and her two kids. There was that same odd energy from you whenever your dad cropped up in conversation. Trying to change the subject and lighten your mood, he asks about what sort of costumes you wore as a kid. You give him generic, vague answers — princess, witch, princess again, witch princess — and don’t seem all that nostalgic about any of it. 

“What about Sarah? What sort of costumes did she have?”

He loves talking about Sarah and all the things she’s done in her life and all the places she’s going next, but other people weren’t always as invested so he kept it simple. He laughs as he recalls the one year she insisted on being a hot dog for some reason but ended up stomping around and crying when all the other kids kept calling her a wiener. “It wasn’t funny, but shit… I mean….” He breaks into another round of laughter, and you join in.

“You’re a really good dad.” It’s a gentle remark, a tender observation. It makes Joel’s throat feel tight how delicately you share the sentiment, how soft it is on your tongue. It almost sounds wistful the way you say it. You reach over and squeeze the hand not holding onto the candy bowl. “Sarah’s really lucky.”

He squeezes your hand back. “Well, I’d say the same about her. Hard to not try for a kid like her, you know? She was better to me than I deserved most of the time. The least I could do was show up for her.”

Your sad smile goes tight as you look off into the front yard at the dwindling number of kids. It’s almost time for you to go home, and Joel knows it. He hates it. Every time he’s with you, the clock goes too fast and the time is up too soon. It’s always over too soon.

“Well, I’d better head out,” you announce. Your eyes drop back to your hand in his. He nearly slots his fingers into yours when you gently rub his hand with your thumb before standing up.

“Let me drive you,” he blurts out. Anything to make this last longer. Anything to spend more time with you.

“Oh, that’s silly. It’s just around the corner. That’s really sweet, but I—”

Joel hops up and abandons the nearly empty bowl of candy on the bench. He’s grabbing your bike and putting it into the bed of his truck before you can talk him out of it. “Just grabbin’ my keys,” he says as he skirts around you to the front door and swipes them from the console table.

“C’mon,” he insists. He places a hand on the small of your back. Your lashes flutter in a syrupy haze at the contact. He ushers you to the passenger door. He opens it for you and shuts it behind you.

“You really don’t have to,” you contend. It’s a weak appeal. He knows you don’t mean it. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up that maybe you like spending any spare second possible with him, too.

“It’s dark out, and who knows what kinda weird pranks some teenagers are tryna play. Gonna get yourself hit with a water balloon full of pee or somethin’ if you bike home.”

You exhale a shocked laugh through your nose. “A what? Is that the sorta thing you and Tommy got up to as kids?” You lean closer to him in the front seat.

He laughs and swears he never did more than TP a house or two or play ding dong doorbell ditch. He drives as slow as he can to your house, but it’s not very far. He’s helping you out of the car and unloading your bike for you before he knows it. Your dad’s car isn’t in the driveway. He hates thinking about you being in the house by yourself late at night like this. You walk him into the backyard where you store your bike in the shed. 

You walk so close to him side by side that he can feel the heat coming off you. He jokes that he really just wanted you to come over because he’s a big scaredy cat on Halloween. You snort and give him a light bump with your body. He gives you one back, and you grab onto his arm with the claim that he “could knock you flat on your ass” if he wasn’t careful. Joel lets himself be delusional and believe that you just want to hold onto him the way he wants to hold onto you.

“Ya know, talkin’ about being scared of things. I’m so fuckin’ glad I didn’t scare you off when I came with that offer to work in my house out of the blue.” He shakes his head and chuckles at how odd it probably was for you to be approached with it. “It was a weird situation, but I’m glad you don’t spook easy.”

You shoot him a soft, wistful smile from the porch steps where you turn to meet him almost eye level. “Spook me? No, hardly. Not when it’s more like you’re the one keeping The Scaries away.” Your eyes glance down to where your hand eases into his. You look up at him again and give his hand a little squeeze. “Get home safe. Don’t get yourself pelted with piss balloons.”

Joel grins and shakes his head instead of what his body is compelling him to do because he knows it wouldn’t be right to snatch you up right now into a kiss. “I’ll text you when I get home to let you know my fate.” He reluctantly drops his hand before he does something stupid that he can’t take back. You wave him off and head inside. 

Joel’s tail lights disappear around the corner, and your entire body feels like it could collapse under the taut band of whatever your relationship with him was turning into — or had already turned into weeks ago.

No. No. This isn’t a relationship. It’s a work relationship. It’s professional. 

He’s your boss.

The house is empty. Your dad is still trick-or-treating with his ready made, play pretend family. You thought you’d be used to it by now, the nauseating sensation of someone else always being picked instead of you, but it still feels like a scab being ripped up every time. Even during his love bombing phases, he never showed up for you like that as a kid. He was almost always putting most of his energy into keeping your mom complacent enough to stay.

There wasn’t ever any leftover energy or motivation after he charmed and conned your mom into believing this time would be different. You’d always felt even as a child that she’d been the one who wanted to have kids and that he obliged but resented her for it, even all these years later. Kids were a means to an end, a bandaid on a broken relationship, and you wonder if it ever occurred to him that you and Calum were actual people with actual feelings and individual hopes and dreams and thoughts and aspirations. More often it felt as though he regarded you much the same as some household pet or other dependent thing that was more trouble than it was worth.

It always seemed so obvious that he cared mostly about the projection of family life rather than the actual family unit. Appearances were something him and your mom could actually agree on, and they both exacted their demands to fit the mold in different but equally excruciating measures.

You feel like crying, but you aren’t sure why. You don’t want your mom to choose you. You don’t want your dad to choose you. Not when all the destructive, dysfunctional aspects come with it. It’s a package deal you never truly want, even if sometimes your heart tried to tell you maybe it was okay if you did want to be chosen by your parents just once to know what it felt like.

The gleam of light from your work phone illuminates your room. It’s Joel.

Joel: Made it home dry. Didn’t get hit by any pee balloons either.

You: is that a double pee joke??? 😭

Joel: Yes.

You: wow all I can say is that urine luck that I like you so much because otherwise 😐

Joel: Please never tell Sarah I was bested in a toilet humor joke-off. I have so little, and I can’t lose this.

You: oh you want my silence huh what’s in it for me?

Joel: My undying love and gratitude.

Your heart swells at his words, and you allow yourself to slip into the fantasy of it. The alternate universe where Joel Miller truly does wish to give you his undying love and gratitude. In text land, though, you play it cool. Or try to.

You: hmmm idk anything else on the table?

Joel: Breakfast tomorrow morning on me?

You: ok now we’re talking

Joel: See you bright and early. 😎

You: lol ok see you in the am

Joel: Night. 🎃💤🧸

You: what’s the bear doing?

Joel: That’s his favorite stuffed animal, thank you very much!

You: the pumpkin?? 

Joel: Yeah. Because it’s Halloween. Get it? Goodnight? Jack-o-lantern with his favorite teddy bear going to sleep?

You: wow you should write books

You feel a rush of excitement and nerves when his contact picture takes up the entire screen. You answer almost immediately, eyes fluttering closed at the sound of his breathy chuckle on the other end.

“Well, hello, Joel,” you hum.

“You makin’ fun of me?” he demands in feigned indignation.

“No, not at all. In fact, if you wrote that book I’d read it one hundred percent,” you assure him in an over the top sweet voice. “I’d be first in line at the signing and everything. I’d have on my jack-o-lantern and bear t-shirt with my matching wristband and baseball cap. I’d be decked out. Totally. Your number one fan.”

He scoffs and fakes offense. “You mean you aren’t already my number one fan?”

“I dunno, where are you buying me breakfast?”

He laughs hard now and mutters under his breath about you being a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You tug your lower lip under your teeth and stifle a giggle. “Wherever you want, princess.”

“Oh, now who’s brown nosing who, huh?” you lob back with a tiny titter, trying with all your might to not scream into your pillow and the way his voice dropped with that last line.

“So what if I am?”

Maybe he hadn’t meant to come across so charged and weighted, but it landed like a lead brick in your lap. A beat of nervous silence and then–

“Well, then I’d say it’s working,” you tease. He breathes a little laugh, a relieved exhale more than anything. “And I don’t care where we get it. Just some random drive-thru would be fine with me, honestly.”

Joel tuts in disapproval. “C’mon now, you can do better’n that.”

“I’ve never been a huge breakfast person, so I don’t know all the good spots. I mean, why don’t you just pick whatever your favorite spot is, and we’ll do that?”

He considers this for a moment before agreeing. “Yeah, alright. I’ll figure somethin’ out. I’ll pick you up about 30 minutes earlier tomorrow. You get some rest now and don’t let me keep you from it, alright?”

“You’re not keeping me from anything,” you softly correct. When the quiet passes between you two again in that weighted, charged energy, you add, “Tonight was really nice. Thanks for letting me pass out candy with you.”

“It was nice,” he agrees. “And I enjoyed the company and conversation. Brought up lots of good memories for me all while makin’ some new ones.”

Your heart feels like it could burst at any moment.

“Definitely some wholesome piss balloon memories made,” you joke.

He laughs again, a sound you’ll never tire of hearing. “Absolutely. Now on that wonderful note, I’ll let you get some sleep. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Joel.”

trying to do the tags even tho they didn't work last time:

@witchy-and-persnickity @tuquoquebrute @ellenmunn @akah565 @goodwithcheese @koshkaj-blog @umnitsa @jupiter-soups @pastelnap @fadajnaoqkzalq @confusedpuffin @zooty-and-fruity @drunk-and-capable @cumberpegg @persephone-girl @lovelyjess69 @verybigvag @nutterbitter @sunshinehaze1 @beelzebeth87 @bizarrelove-triangle

[alex51324]

It's Almost Here! North American Solar Eclipse, 2024

As I mentioned in that other post, it will be visible as at least a partial eclipse to most of North America, with the path of totality cutting a diagonal from Sinaloa, Mexico to Newfoundland, Canada, including 15 US states from Texas to Maine.

Don't be fooled by how we just had one back in October, and another one a few years ago in 2017: total solar eclipses are rare! They only happen when the Sun, Moon, and Earth line up just perfectly--and only for a small portion of the Earth's surface each time.

It's a wild coincidence that North America/the US has gotten three in such a short span of time; the last one before the recent trio was in 1979, and the next one won't be until 2044. (We do have a big partial coming to us in 2033!) The Northeastern US won't see another until the 2070's.

(Note: If you are not in North America, you can use these maps to see when your continent will have its turn!)

This eclipse is also really special in that its path of totality sweeps across a lot of heavily-populated areas. About 31 million people live within the path of totality, and millions more are expected to visit.

So, it's a pretty big deal, and now's the time to get ready!

If you live in the path of totality:

Lucky you! Look up your location on these maps to get the exact time and duration of totality.

Be ready for extra traffic & crowds--especially if you live somewhere with stuff for tourists, or a place that people outside the immediate area will have heard of.

Totality times are in the afternoon, ranging from about 1:30 in Texas to 3:30 in Maine (local times), so if you'll be at school, or at work in a setting where you can't choose your own break times, now's a good time to talk to whomever you need to. It's not unreasonable to ask to step out into the parking lot for the three minutes that people will be coming from far and wide to see--but depending on your setting, it may take some arranging ahead of time. (If you're in school, hopefully your science teachers have already thought of this, but if not, ask them. And if your science teachers are jerks, try other teachers.

If you live near the path of totality:

Try to go! As the American author Annie Dillard says, "Seeing a partial eclipse bears the same relation to seeing a total eclipse as kissing a man does to marrying him, or as flying in an airplane does to falling out of an airplane."

(Link is to the Atlantic; if you hit a paywall, the 12-foot ladder works.)

Here's a map of approximate driving distances to the path of totality, in the US (from this page).

If you're close enough to think about going, here are some Google maps with eclipse overlays for more detailed planning. (I like the Xavier Jubier one.)

Once you're inside the path of totality, anywhere you can see the sun is a valid viewing location, but if you're making a day of it and you want to find a special spot, check local visitor's bureaus or tourism offices for the area you'll be in. They'll probably have a list of parks and other places. For instance, here's what Erie, Pennsylvania has.

Seriously, If you are able to drive/have a car, live within day-trip distance of the path of totality, and can be away from work/school without losing your job/being arrested for truancy, you should go. This is a once-in-a-lifetime type of thing, and there's still loads of time to plan a day-trip.

(Note: If you aren't in day-trip distance, but now you want to go, you don't have a lot of options: hotels and flights have been full for ages. However, if you're in two-days-driving distance, you might be able to find a Sunday-night base camp, from which you can get up on Monday morning and drive several more hours to the path of totality. For instance, in Pennsylvania, there are still reasonably-priced hotel rooms to be had in State College, which is--in normal traffic--three and a half hours from Erie. (You might even be able to get a little closer than that; I just checked State College because they have a lot of hotels for the Penn State football crowds.} So if you're coming from, say, Maryland or Virginia, that could work, and there may be similar creative options for other regions. Again, if this is something that's feasible for you to do, without bankrupting yourself, getting fired, or other long-term consequences, I would strongly consider doing it!

If you live in North America, but have no way to get to the totality:

A partial eclipse is still pretty cool! And again, it'll be a while before you have another chance to see one, so it's worth it to make the time.

All of the 48 contiguous US states will be able to see some amount of eclipse. So will Hawaii, Mexico, Central America, and most of Canada and the Caribbean islands, plus a little bit of South America. (Alaska and part of the Yukon are SOL, but you will have your turn in 2033!)

Use these maps to look up the time and extent of the eclipse in your location.

As of this writing, you can still get eclipse glasses here, among other places. If you run out of time to get them, check for eclipse-viewing events at local parks, libraries, etc.--they may also have some to give away ahead of time, but even if not, if you go to an event, there will almost certainly be some to share.

The plus of a partial eclipse is that you have a fairly relaxed viewing window--as much as a couple of hours, depending how far you are from the middle of the eclipse zone--rather than a standout moment that you want to make sure you're in position for.

That makes it pretty easy to get a chance to see it even if you're at work--everybody can take turns stepping outside for a look. You can share eclipse glasses, too.

[academic-vampire]

“One turns at last even from glory itself with a sigh of relief.”

-Annie Dillard, “Total Eclipse”

[jungle-angel]

A Pair Of Lovebirds In Paradise (Calvin Evans x Reader)

Summary: You and Cal are excited beyond words to finally have some time to yourselves after your wedding

Notes: Sequel to "Wedding Day"

Warnings: SMUT 18+ only, some very kinky bedroom shenanigans, breeding kink, etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse

"You sure Six-Thirty will be fine with you guys?" Calvin asked, the two of you making your way into the airport with his parents, sister and niece.

"Calvin that dog is attached to your father like a pig's wart," his mother told him. "I'm almost certain he'll be fine."

"Almost certain?" Cal asked.

"He'll be fine Cal," Henry said with a wave of his hand. "What's the worst that could happen? He leaps the fence and leaves a dead bird on Mrs. Dillard's porch."

That little comment had earned Henry a hard smack on the shoulder from Pat. It was no secret that Mrs. Dillard was a horrible gossip, nosy beyond all human reasoning and who had incurred the unfortunate wrath or Father McDowell's wife, Helen. Calvin could almost picture the whole scene in his head of Six-Thirty leaving something much worse than that on the wretched old hag's front porch or digging up her prized rhododendrons to look for the ham bone he had buried the previous week.

You and your husband both bid Six-Thirty farewell along with his parents. Poor Lucy didn't want either of you to go, but Cal had promised he'd be back soon.

The two of you had only turned around once before you and Cal had to hurry to the gate to catch your flight to Fort Meyers. Already the snow was coming down and you were both worried that you would have to stay overnight in the airport. Outside the windows you could already see the big red and silver jet, pulling off the runway to let off more passengers.

"You excited sweetheart?" Cal asked.

"More than I've ever been," you told him.

"I know, it'll feel good to get out of the cold for once," Calvin said. "Won't have to deal with any of those pricks at the college for two full weeks and we can spend all the time we want on the beach."

"And in that case you'd better wear plenty of sunscreen Mister," you warned him, giving Cal a playful tweak on the nose.

Cal laughed. "Don't worry sweetheart," he said. "Dr. Powers and his students were working on a test batch of homemade sunscreen last week and he gave us some of it."

"Ah so that's why his lab smelled like coconut oil and beeswax," you chuckled.

Calvin hummed as he pressed his lips to your soft cheek. You both couldn't deny that when Dr. Powers and his class were working on a test batch of sunscreen, his lab had smelled so good. You and Cal couldn't resist passing by there on your lunch hours, inhaling deeply at the smells of melted beeswax, coconut oil, raspberry oil and all the smells of whatever had gone into making it.

"Can't wait," he mumbled. "Two whole weeks in Florida and not a worry in the world."

You giggled a little as his kissing tickled your skin, your reverie interrupted when the desk clerk announced that your flight was boarding. You and Cal gathered up your suitcases and buttoned up your winter jackets, joining the rest of the crowd as they headed down the stairs and boarded the bus to take you to the waiting plane.

Everything went off without a hitch, your plane taking off in the snow and in the dark as it headed from the snowy north down to the warmth of the Sunshine State. You and Cal had snuggled into each other under a blanket, the both of you gazing out to the land below, only falling asleep when Cal could no longer keep his eyes open and the pages of Great Expectations splayed against his chest.

"Ladies and gentlemen, from the flight deck, this is your Captain, we will be landing in Fort Myers, Florida in less than twenty minutes," the captain announced.

You rubbed the grog from your eyes and pressed a kiss to Cal's smooth cheek, your husband groaning as he blinked his eyes open. "What time is it?" he groaned.

"Look out your window," you whispered.

The both of you looked out the window at the burst of color in the sky, reds, oranges, dark blues and pinks blending together perfectly while below, you and Cal could make out the darkened Florida landscape. You were amazed when Lake Okeechobee came into view, a sign that you were drawing closer as the plane turned over the lake.

By the time the sun came up, you and Calvin could see the palm trees, the swamps and the highways below. Off somewhere in the distance was a thin line that was the beach, but your destination lay beyond that.

"Almost there sweetheart," Cal said with a smile. "Almost there."

**************

Sanibel Island, Florida

You couldn't have imagined a better place to stay with your husband than where you two had wound up. The drive out hadn't been bad at all, the sun shining bright and the hot air making the two of you feel much better after having come from the colder states.

The little beach cottage that Calvin had found was utterly perfect in every way, a comfortable little place right on the beach painted in shades of turquoise and peach pink. The garden was beautiful with all the colorful tropical flowers and a little bird feeder shaped like a lighthouse. All the smells of the beach put you at ease, the calm slap of the waves against the shore and the burning sun that washed away your winter blues.

You and Cal had slept for most of your first day, exhausted beyond words from having to get up so early to catch your flight. You slept all through the night until you yourself, had awoken the next morning to see the sun coming up.

You found a little spot on the rocks that stood in the water, flat topped and smooth from years of waves and hurricanes beating against them. You were perched right on top of the rocks, dipping your feet in the water and your legs perfectly exposed from your navy blue shorts. Never in your life had you seen so many shells in one place, thousands, maybe even millions of shells all washed up on the beach.

You wished you had your camera, seeing as it was already appearing to be the perfect morning, hot and hazy as a thick, cloud of humid mist rolled across the ocean. You nearly gasped when you saw two dolphins jumping out of the water and back under again, hoping that they would swim your way.

You yelped when you suddenly felt your husband sneak up behind you to kiss your shoulder. "Whatcha lookin at sweetheart?" Cal asked.

"Two dolphins just jumped out of the ocean," you answered.

Calvin was completely surprised when he saw them jump again and you as well. You two spent the whole day exploring the beach, picking up shell after shell, your toes in the sand and the sea-breeze in your hair and the sun on your backs. You and Cal felt brave enough to go for a swim as the sun grew hotter, slathering each other all over with the sunscreen you had brought. Jumping off the end of the pier was the most exhilarating thing the two of you had done, feeling more like children again as you went under the water and bobbed to the surface again.

The diving for shells had been the highlight of your day, you and Calvin hoping to be able to find pearls to take home. You had both found a giant conch shell that had quickly become a horn, throwing the nearby fishermen into a fit of laughter as you passed it back and forth between you and them.

It was later in the night that Cal had decided to treat you to dinner at a small place in town, a little nightclub called Emilio's. Not since your wedding night had he seen you look this gorgeous in your pine green velvet dress and your black heels.

"Sweetheart, only you and Rose Clooney could pull off that dress so well," he whispered as he escorted you in.

You laughed a little bit at his complement but deep down, you knew it was true.

The evening was absolutely perfect as you and your husband enjoyed dinner and danced with each other in the open air. Surprisingly enough, you had both become fast friends with Emilio, the owner of the place and who's daughter was in fact a student at the university where you and Calvin had both started teaching.

"Wait, is your daughter Alessia?" you asked. "Alessia Martinez?"

"¡Sí! ¡Esa es mi hija!" Emilio declared happily. "And you're her teacher, yes?"

"That would be me," you answered proudly.

Emilio still couldn't believe it, but he was thrilled to have finally met both you and Calvin after having heard so much about you both from Alessia, who had been one of your students. You stayed right through dinner and danced a little while longer until you and Cal decided to head back to the beach cottage.

You both could have fallen asleep right in the living room, but the long trudge to the bedroom had been well worth it. You kicked off your heels and stuck them in the closet while Cal stripped himself of his black suit, hanging up the tie and jacket.

"Cal can you.....?"

"Hold on sweetheart," he yawned.

His fingers gently grabbed hold of the unnoticeable zipper on the back of your dress, pulling it down until it could go no further. He couldn't resist pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the backs of his fingers caressing the soft skin on your back. You shuddered, drawing in a breath when you felt it.

Calvin kissed your cheek and trailed all the way to the curve of your neck, his arms coming to coil around you as your dress fell to the floor. There you were in front of him, naked as you had been on the night of your wedding, one hand trailing across your hip and stomach while the other moved slightly to caress your naked breasts.

"My pretty wifey," he sighed. "I love you so much."

He kept kissing you, more so when you turned around to face him, deepening it just a little as you helped Calvin unbutton his white dress shirt. You couldn't help yourself when you undid the last one, littering his chest with sloppy, open mouthed kisses.

Calvin grabbed you by the hips and forcefully pulled you a little closer, the lust burning in his eyes like sapphire flames. "Let me open a window to let in some air," he said.

Even with the air conditioning in the house it was still a little warm in the back bedroom. Cal pushed the window open just a crack and shut the bamboo slat blinds on the doors that led to the back porch. Outside you could hear the ocean, the breeze and the incessant chirping of frogs and night-birds which was music to your ears.

Calvin's lips attached once again to yours, kissing you deeply as you pushed his shirt off him. You felt his breath getting more rapid as your hands moved to undo his belt, the buckle clinking as you undid it and pulled it from the beltloops in his pants and tossed it aside.

You both fell to the bed with Calvin rutting right into you, his cock already hard and throbbing, still imprisoned by his black dress pants and his shorts. You teased him just a little, your hand dipping low into the back to grab a handful of his firm ass-cheek

"Hey!" he said suddenly, his head shooting up to meet your gaze. "No butt stuff just yet sweetheart."

You giggled a little as you helped him off with his pants and then his shorts, both of you now free to explore each other's bodies as much as you wished.

"Wanna give you a honeymoon baby so bad, sweet pea," he groaned, sliding himself into you and sloppily kissing your cheeks and neck. "Wanna fill you up.....watch your body change and grow....."

An unholy moan escaped your mouth as he rutted into you again, the dirty words spilling into your ears and making the wetness between your legs worse than it already was. You wanted nothing more than for Calvin to spill himself inside of you, to feel it all rush up deeply and settle there.

And that's just what he did. As soon as he could see that you were about to cum, he lifted you upright, letting you steady yourself against his shoulders as you both came together. Your head fell against his shoulder, the both of you breathing heavily and shaking a little bit.

"You alright sweet pea?" he asked.

You nodded sleepily.

Calvin laughed a little before you both drifted off to sleep, the frogs, bugs and birds singing you both to sleep until the sun rose again the next morning and you awoke again, happily in each other's arms.

[zadralien]

Trying to save the one thing he loves most about space.

Ficlet under the cut

I always imagined this sort of scene to Trapped In Dillard’s by Foxing,

It hadn’t meant to go like this.

The Voot groaned, cutting Dib’s attention from the static over the radio as he yanked his boots on. He’d begged Zim to stay where it was safe, where they could wait in quietly together in the ship until the diagnostics were complete or until a friendly nearby ship heard their distress call.

But Zim had never been great at keeping his ego in check. He’d insisted that as a solider of the Irken Armada, he was most qualified to depart from the warm confines of the ship and manually check out the exterior for damages.

It had been fine at first with Zim giving frequent call-outs of his observations as Dib began to map all possible issues.

At some point, he’d registered a low buzzing sound beneath Zim’s chatter.

Dib scrambled to flick a call out of warning over the radio once he’d realised what might be happening - but it was too late. The buzzing had stopped and Zim was cut off, static pouring over the radio as the cockpit clicked and flashed to life.

Dib flung himself over the co-pilots chair, clamouring desperately towards the oxygen helmets kept in a corner compartment of the ship. Yanking the radio off his spacesuit belt, he threw his helmet on and slipped a second one under his arm.

“Zim,” Dib called out over his radio, “please tell me you’re alive.”

Nothing but the rush of static responded.

Dib whirled over to the airlock, reaching up and snatching an overhanging a lifeline to clip to his belt. He took a steadying breath, and punched the code in to open the airlock.

Usually, looking out into the open vacuum of space was soothing to Dib - the mundane reminder that he was just a small part of the universe, a leaf in the stream of a much larger river. It was a welcome relief from the crushing pressure of being his father’s prodigy. Now, the vast vacuum of space chilled him to the bone as he looked around the sides of the ship for his only friend. He was met only with a crushing black emptiness sprayed with dying stars. One wrong move, and nothing stops you from vanishing in an endless drift towards a certain and slow death.

He steeled his grip against the top of the airlock door and pulled himself upwards, letting go at the last minute to float towards the top of the ship. He looked desperately to the topside of the ship where he knew Zim was working, noticing a little hysterically that the hatch was still open and unmanned.

Swallowing, he looked up and around at the consuming blackness around them, their only grace a nearby set of dwarf suns emitting a dim light.

When his eyes finally landed on something floating some distance away from the ship, Dib’s heart jumped. He squinted as he took the binoculars out of his suit pocket, adjusting them hurriedly as the picture of Zim’s red suit slowly came into focus.

“Zim!” Dib called in vain over the suit comms, using all of his strength to launch himself off the ship with the help of his suit thrusters.

As he floated, he didn’t know if it was the scene that was slowly becoming closer or or the freezing temperature of space, but Dib’s blood felt sharp and icy as it forced its way through his body, biting pains emanating from his chest. Zim’s body was unmoving and, much to Dib’s mounting panic, unmasked against the void. His face was basked into the deep shadows of space and light of the nearby suns. His body, for the first time ever, was completely limp.

After what seemed like years, Dib finally reached Zim. He knew Irkens, with the the help of their Paks, could withstand the pressures and temperatures of space for an intimidating amount of time, but Dib didn’t know the limitations once the body had already sustained injuries from electrical charges. Already, Zim’s face was beginning to crystallise and bloom into a deep deadly blue. Dib yanked the helmet out from under his arm and pulled it over Zim’s head, clasping it desperately to Zim’s suit with shaking hands. He watched as the mask signalled it was delivering a much needed flow. Pressing one hand to Zim’s chest, he allowed himself a small rush of relief as he felt Zim’s chest move with a fragile breath.

Dib pulled Zim closer, cradling his neck carefully and pressing their torsos together as he inputted the recall command on the lifeline.

As they were yanked back towards the ship, he braced himself for the unceremonious crash against the floor of the spacecraft, twisting to ensure he broke Zim’s fall.

After a moment, the airlock closed swiftly. Dib reached over towards an emergency kit for high flow oxygen, clicking the hosing into the back of Zim’s helmet. With a pained grunt Dib slumped backwards, pulling Zim’s body up and into his lap, allowing the quiet hiss of air soothe him. He brushed a hand over Zim’s shoulders and arms, coming up to cup a hand against the helmet where Zim’s cheek slowly began to slowly radiate back to his usual green colour.

Dib let his head fall back against the wall behind him, taking a deep shuddering breath.

Even with everything he has seen on this escapade across the galaxy - from the extraordinary planets and individual lifeforms to the nebulas and vast galaxies, he’d never been as euphoric to see his alien again.

[legendofmorons]

Lu and blue grass/ folk music they'd like

The ballad of songbirds and snakes has me feeling some kinda way so here's the boys plus a few others and the blue grass and or folk music they'd like.

Why, yes, Several of these are from O brother where art thou

Four

Big iron by Colter wall

John Henry

Hyrule

Oo-de-lally

The happy wanderer

Soilder, poet, king

Legend

I am a man of constant sorrow by the soggy bottom boys

Mary Jane's last dance by Tom petty

Old number seven by the devil makes three

Sky

Down to the river to pray

Keep on the sunny side by the whites

I'll fly away

Cukoo bird

Time

There is a time by the dillards

Big rock candy mountain

Wild flowers by Tom petty

Twilight

Foggy mountain breakdown by Flatt and scrugs

Dooley by the dillards

In the jail house now by the soggy bottom boys

Warriors

Charlie boy by lumineers

All I want is you by Barry Louis polisar

Dial drunk

Wild

Rover (the camp song ser lyrics here)

The moon will sing by crane wives

Ho hey by lumineers

Fast car by Tracy Chapman ( not sure if this counts)

Wind

Orange blossom special by earl Scruggs, Lester Flatt, and the foggy mountain band

Sweet Carrie by Dailey & Vincent

The craw dad song

Dark (shadow?)

My girl (in the pines)

Bottom of the river by delta rae (I can't remember if this folk but it feels like it)

The hanging tree (Rachel Zegler's version has me acting a fool)

Hell's coming with me

Fierce

(Ghost) riders in the sky

Take me to church by hoizer (idk if this counts, but I've heard people call his stuff folk music)

Like real people do

Malon

Raise hell by Brandie Carlie

Cripple creek

(Oh my darling) clementine

Echo by Talisk

[cyraclove]

I have mad writer’s block with all of my wips right now so please have this drabble about Eddie going prom dress shopping with Chrissy that I couldn’t get out of my head

Eddie pops another handful of M&Ms in his mouth as he glances at his watch.

He locks eyes with the same saleswoman that’s been hovering around the dressing room for the last hour, shooting her a crunchy, chocolatey grin. Eddie chuckles to himself when she purses her lips in obvious disgust and clacks away.

He’s lost count of how many dresses Chrissy’s tried on. They might live here now, in this Dillard’s at the mall. At least there’s an Orange Julius and a Mrs. Fields nearby. Bright side.

Eddie’s still not entirely sure how he ended up at the mall watching Chrissy try on dresses. For prom. The prom that she’s going to with Jason Carver, her walking wiener of a boyfriend.

It’s probably got something to do with the fact that he’s stupidly, pathetically in love with her.

Another Blondie song comes on overhead and the hiss of the same perfume sample being sprayed for the hundredth time makes Eddie’s eye twitch.

God, he’s getting a cluster headache. He needs a cigarette, like, yesterday.

“How’s it going in there, Chris?”

There’s shuffling and the soft clink of metal hangers from behind the flimsy curtain in front of him.

“This one’s too…poofy,” Chrissy says, a frown in her voice.

“The purple one? I thought you liked that one.”

“No, this is the dark green one.”

“The dark gr—I haven’t even seen that one yet. C’mon out, lemme look at it.”

“No, it’s too poofy,” she insists. “I look like…like broccoli.”

Eddie tosses his head back with a laugh despite trying his damndest not to. He can’t see her, but he knows she’s got that little crinkle above her nose that she gets when she’s grumpy. He can hear it.

“You’ll be the most beautiful vegetable at the dance,” Eddie teases. The little grumble he gets in response tugs at his heart.

Chrissy pokes her head out from the curtain to look at him, gathering it around her chest. Eddie can see just a sliver of her bare shoulder. His stomach actually flutters.

“Eddie,” Chrissy sighs, “this is serious. If I don’t find a dress this weekend, it’ll be too late.”

Chrissy disappears into her dressing room again. Eddie hears a zipper and wishes that he was made of taffeta.

“I’m gonna try on the blue one,” Chrissy tells him. “You liked that one, right?”

“Chrissy, I like them all,” he says honestly. I like them because they’re on you, he doesn’t add.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. You’re gonna look great in whatever you pick.”

There’s a pause in the rustling of fabric. Chrissy’s face appears again, baby blues rolling above a little smile. Her cheeks are pricked with the slightest hint of pink.

“You have to say that because you’re my best friend,” she says.

Eddie looks at her a minute, his eyes on hers. The tinny Muzak from out in the mall fades away and all he can hear is his blood rushing in his ears, the thump of his heart against his ribcage.

He could just tell her. Right now, with that stuffy saleswoman glaring at them from behind the cosmetics counter.

He could tell her and then he’d get to take her to the dumb prom, and it’d be the best night of his goddamned life.

But he doesn’t.

“Go on and try the blue one on before they close the mall and we get locked in here,” he jokes. He shoots her a smile that she returns before vanishing again.

His head aches.

“I’m sorry I’m taking so long,” Chrissy apologizes. “I really appreciate you coming with me.”

“Hey, of course. Anything for you, Cunningham. You know that.”

“It’s just…I know this sounds so stupid, but I really want my ‘Wow’ moment. You know?”

Eddie’s brow furrows. “Uh, you may need to give me a definition for that one.”

“Have you seen Footloose?”

“Did you forget who you’re talking to?”

Chrissy lets out a breath of a giggle. “Well, do you know the basic plot of the movie?”

“Think so,” Eddie muses. “Jesus good, dancing bad.”

“Essentially,” Chrissy laughs. “Anyway, there’s this part at the end after they finally convince the reverend to let them have senior prom. Kevin Bacon’s character—his name’s Ren—“

“Ren, okay.”

“Yeah, and he comes to pick Ariel up—that’s Lori Singer’s character. You know Lori Singer?”

“The blonde from, uh…Fate?”

“Fame. So, he comes to pick her up for the dance and he’s walking up to her front porch and he stops when he sees her standing there,” Chrissy continues, her voice airy, dreamy.

“And then he just…looks at her. Like he can’t believe that she’s real. That’s what I want.”

There’s a twinge in Eddie’s chest.

“Chris, Carver’s an idiot if he doesn’t—“

The end of Eddie’s sentence is snuffed out when Chrissy pulls back the curtain and steps out of the dressing room. His tongue is dry and his head feels fuzzy. The air leaves his lungs entirely as he takes her in, breathtaking in blue.

The neckline kisses her collarbone, sleeves fluttering at the edges at her shoulders. The shimmery fabric slopes along the contours of her body, coasting down the curve of her waist before splaying into the skirt.

Chrissy’s teeth dig into her lower lip as the corner of her lips quirk up. She shifts from one foot to the other, the wispy silk swaying gently just above her ankles.

“Well? What about this one?”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, his heart in his throat. “I think that’s the one.��

[turbomun]

IDK how many people care about dead malls, but that last post about the Collin Creek mall really made me sad. Look at these two pictures:

The top one is from when the mall opened in 1981, the second one is from 2018 (it closed a year later). I think these pictures are both showing the Dillard’s mall entrance, but from different angles.

The 2018 picture represents how the mall more or less always looked since I started going there in 2004, except without people or stores. I never knew there were indoor waterways and fountains. Look at the seating area/playground in the 2018 picture — it’s built over where the waterway used to be. Look at the weirdly protruding concourses on the second story that used to be balconies.

The 1981 mall would have been a beautiful place to go, especially in summer when it’s too hot to spend time outside in Texas. You could walk along the waterway or sit at the tables and have a gorgeous view. It’s almost like a park. I didn’t even recognize the mall when I saw those photos, because all I ever knew was the bland white building that it became.

I don’t know what the moral of the story is here, because I’m sure those waterways were wasteful and expensive to maintain, and there were almost certainly other factors in the mall’s decline besides the visual downgrade. I just wish I could have seen it in its heyday.

[probablyasocialecologist]

I like insects for their stupidity. A paper wasp—Polistes—is fumbling at the stained-glass window on my right. I saw the same sight in the same spot last Sunday: Pssst! Idiot! Sweetheart! Go around by the door! I hope we seem as endearingly stupid to God—bumbling down into lamps, running half-wit across the floor, banging for days at the hinge of an opened door. I hope so. It does not seem likely.

Annie Dillard, Teaching a Stone to Talk

[anderstrevelyan]

My Blood Your Paint

Rating: M / Pairing: The Dark Urge/Enver Gortash (one-sided—thanks, amnesia) / Word Count: 3,139

If you’d told me when I started this game that my writing brain would be consumed by this particular antagonist I would not have believed you, but hey, here we are! I’m working on more about Valas (and Gortash) set before the game, but it seems fitting for my first posted Baldur’s Gate fic to be about the scene that started it all.

Here's the Act 3 coronation from Gortash’s perspective.

Excerpt below, and you can read the rest on AO3.

Today was supposed to be the best day of Enver Gortash’s life. Everything was to be his. Everything. Exactly as it always should have been, from the moment Bane looked into his black heart and saw the makings of a lord. After all the cold, long years he’s spent, belittled and betrayed, building himself up with unwavered faith to close his fist around the kind of power Baldur’s Gate has never seen: to become its first Archduke. Yet it was incredibly clear, long before today’s vaunted coronation, that today won’t be the uncomplicated triumph he’s long imagined. Ketheric is dead. Orin is unstable, wavering, threatening to carve out the plan’s still-barely-beating heart—the antithesis of anything he would have chosen in an ally. The brain threatens to revolt, rumbling beneath the very streets, sparking his own panic even as he stands straight to solve everyone else’s. And Ketheric’s killers, utter unknowns, bearers of the third Netherstone—they remain the key. And so this day, his day, becomes all about them.

No matter. He’ll convince them, that standing with him is the way forward, the only way to best the brain: through logic, through charm, through the power of pageantry—or through force, if it comes to that. He just wishes—as he makes the final touches to his hair and pins the last golden brooch to his lapel, as he descends the winding stairs of Wyrm’s Rock, as he hands the ceremonial sword to Ulder Ravengard, mind tadpole-tethered and tamed—he wishes he had more to go on about what makes these mysterious adventurers tick. Orin had tried to plant a treacherous little seed, of course, and he curses himself for sparing it another thought. With a toss of her braid, affectedly aloof, and the exact right idea to carve into his skull: that her sibling, Bhaal’s fallen Chosen, his own lost everything, lives still. Is among those adventurers. Is on his way to him here, today, has accepted an invitation to these very formalities. Gortash didn’t fail to notice the cruelty in Orin’s eyes as she’d said it, had tried to focus on its memory as he heard of sightings across Rivington, through his Steel Watch and more quiet observers—or at least, sightings of someone wearing his face. Gortash wasn’t going to fall for that again, even as each report sparked an unwanted shock of hope through his heart. It’s not him. It can’t really be him. He focuses instead on the details of the audience hall: takes a silent roll call of the invited patriars, in their ceremonial best to greet the city’s new dawn, checks and re-checks its defenses, the Steel Watchers standing sentry and the traps, gilded gold, ready to make ash of anyone who tries to intervene. Orin and her ilk won’t come here. Even she wouldn’t dare. By the time he feels a faint resonance in the stone secured to the back of his hand, he’s calm again. Confident. Sure, as he listens to Dillard Portyr introduce him with a dull-as-ever speech, that he has this in his control. But when the far doors open, when he’s sure the newcomers are the ones he seeks, when they come close enough for him to see Valas DeVir’s face—that’s when Gortash knows he’d been wrong. Gods below, this really is the best day of his life.

(keep reading)

[keepingupwitht]

"Counting the Cost" by Jill Duggar Dillard

Last night, I read all of Counting the Cost in one sitting because apparently my fundie fascination is still going strong over a year after we closed down KUWF. I've got a lot of takeaways I want to talk about so I'm going to put a cut and get into it all after the jump.

In the beginning of the book, it struck me how generally correct we were about Jill and growing up as a Duggar. She was a people pleaser and playing the role of “Sweet Jilly Muffin” was so important to her. She loved her childhood and her parents. It’s interesting both from Jinger & Jill that as kids, the Duggar childhood of their memories is an idyllic one. There was a lot of emphasis on their values - no rock music, dancing, movies, etc. but it was a lot of time spent together and fun and games. 

We also saw the shift in the way they grew up - they were always IBLP inspired conservative Christains, but were attending a regular baptist church up until they attended a different church one week that had dancing in the service. Suddenly, they started attending an IBLP only church and getting deeper in. Jill recounts the first time she went to an IBLP conference and realized there were other families like theirs. It was interesting to see their early progression deeper into the cult (which Jill even calls it by the end of the book). 

Jim Bob getting into politics was interesting - Josh’s early interest in it, while Jill preferred to get treats from the other legislators, made a lot of sense. When Josh is sent away, Jill glosses over some of the details (fair enough) but it’s interesting to me to see how she lays out the three things happening around the same time: (1) going deeper into IBLP, (2) her dad getting involved in politics and (3) Josh getting sent away. It lays the groundwork for what TLC is about to walk into and change everything. 

Jim Bob also saying he knew God wanted him to run for Senate, then losing and immediately being noticed by the press and ultimately Discovery - and opening the “window of opportunity” for their family to be on TV was a little wild. The fact that all this happened ultimately because this man flipped a coin three times and got heads all three times - something that has a ⅛ probability of happening - is sorta wild. 

Jill not enjoying filming was something I did not expect - honestly I always thought that she was one of the kids who enjoyed it more. But it makes sense now that she was one of the few who refused to have her honeymoon filmed and refused TLC cameras at her birth, which Jana and Michelle filmed. Those were one of the things that I noticed at the time but didn’t realize what it meant. Good for Jill for standing her ground on both those things - although she wanted to refuse to have her birth filmed at all. 

It was interesting to me that the Duggars were not an IBLP model family UNTIL the show. The show put them in that position - Jill didn’t think they’d be one without it. And the line about Jana being invited to visit headquarters as the only blond to be one of “Gothard’s Girls” just hurts to think about in hindsight. 

It’s interesting how long they propped Josh up as the golden boy while he was in trouble behind the scenes. 

In hindsight, the fact that Jim Bob really set up Jill and Derick is really something, since they would ultimately be the first to really break away. 

Everytime Jill advocates for herself, I am so proud. She pushed for two weeks in Nepal to meet Derick even when they only wanted to film part of the trip, and got the time. They filmed a fake goodbye and then spent another week getting to know each other. 

 I didn’t expect to have my lawyer hat on, but the fact that Jim Bob had Jill sign a contract the day of her rehearsal dinner with everything going on with her MILs health without letting her read it, and her not even realizing what was happening was just atrocious. Just pure and straight abuse. 

The fact that Jill was not paid for any filming and thought she was volunteering at her family ministry for the majority of the time she was filming is just awful. I know she did get perks - her Nepal trip, various other trips, her wedding, groceries, etc. But the fact that she and Derick only had a five day honeymoon because that’s all they could afford when Jim Bob almost certainly made more than $100,000 for their wedding is gross. 

This also doesn’t make TLC look very good, since this kind of abuse was allowed to occur basically under their watch. I get that they likely had a great deal on the Duggars because they were only negotiating with questionable businessman Jim Bob but it does suck to see how little they care about the human cost of their show.